


7:07 AM

by assbuttsinlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, Police Officer Dean, Runner Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbuttsinlove/pseuds/assbuttsinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Officer Winchester can't seem to take his eyes off the gorgeous man running past his squad car every morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	7:07 AM

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemonsorbae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/gifts).



Running. He’s always running.

Dean sees him every morning, running past him gracefully.  Long, tan legs, with sturdy looking calves, beefy looking arms, that he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be wrapped up in, and a profile that looked like a gift from God himself. Every morning at 7:07 am, this man runs past Dean’s squad car and he feels a little tightness in his pants. By the time his partner Victor returns with their breakfast from Dunkin Donuts, both the man and the tightness in Dean’s pants are long gone.

“Man, why do I _always_ have to do this shit? Is it because I’m black?” Victor gripes as he settles in his seat.  He hands Dean a white styrofoam cup filled to the brim with coffee and a brown paper baggie with a donut settled in at the bottom. 

Dean rolls his eyes and puts the coffee in his cup holder.  “Because I said so, asshole.”

Victor takes a bite of his chicken biscuit and shakes his head. “Nah man. Something’s up. Every fucking morning. You’re sitting here in this same spot. Making me walk an extra block. Fuck you.  You’re checking someone out.  Who is it?”

Dean’s face turns red but he doesn’t respond.  Victor is his partner and one of his best friends and he _knows_ if he finds out about his little crush on the runner, he won’t hear the end of it for days. “No one,” he replies stiffly. He quickly takes a bite of his donut and pointedly looks out the window.

“You’re a big fat liar, Winchester,” Victor murmurs.

“Whatever,” Dean says before taking a sip of his coffee.  He hisses softly as he burns his tongue.

* * *

To throw Victor off, he offers to get the coffee the next day. He walks into the dingy old Dunkin Donuts, littered with purple and pink plastic tables all of them covered in day old coffee rings and little crystals of sugar.  It smells like donuts and coffee and soft music plays from a little radio behind the register. 

“Morning officer, what can I get you?” The boy behind the counter is bright eyed with a kind smile.  His nametag reads: _Alfie_. 

“Chicken biscuit and a small coffee, black.  And for me, I’ll take a…cappuccino, and a…” his voice trails off as his eyes scan the menu.  “Say, Alfie, you know anything about a guy who might come by here? About this high. Has…dark…brown hair? He’s a runner.”

Alfie wrinkles his nose and moves over to the coffee machine. “That’s pretty…general, I see way too many people in here, sorry.”

Dean hums.  It was worth a shot.

“You want a donut or something?” Alfie asks.

Dean’s eyes linger on the chocolate glazed donuts for a few seconds and then he decides against it.  “Nah. Just the coffee is fine.”

He walks out of the store, Victor’s food and coffee in one hand and his own coffee in the other.  Glancing at the time, he curses below his breath when he realizes it’s almost 7:30 am already. The runner would be long gone by now.  With a resigned sigh, he walks down the block and to the squad car where he finds Victor playing Candy Crush on his phone. 

“Stop slacking off on the job,” he grouses.

“Fuck you,” Victor says without looking up at him. 

Dean laughs.

* * *

It’s a quiet Wednesday morning.  Dean hasn’t seen the runner for a couple days now and he wishes he wasn’t worried about him, but he is.  A thousand different scenarios run through his mind, all of them equally terrifying.   It’s 7:05 and he finds himself glancing out the window, watching and waiting. 

At 7:07 am he looks out the window, heart pounding in his chest. This whole thing is so dumb and he’s so embarrassed that he’s feeling this way, but when that familiar body jogs past him, he jumps and nearly falls out of his seat. 

The man is back, this time wearing a pair of black shorts, and a dusty pink shirt.  He’s wearing headphones and Dean can see little beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. The man moves swiftly when suddenly he stops and cries out in pain.

Dean is out of the car and running over to him in  five seconds flat.  “Sir, sir are you alright?”

The man is doubled over, obviously in pain, clutching onto his calf. “I’m fine, officer, it’s just a leg cramp… _fuck_ ,” he swears. He glances over at Dean and does a double take when he sees his face.  “I didn’t know New York’s finest responded to Charlie horses,” he teases. 

Dean blushes and rolls his eyes.  “Hey man, I thought you were having a heart attack or something,” he blathers.

The man hums and slowly stands up straight.  He takes a tentative step forward and hisses.  “Do you think you could help me over to the bench?” he asks.

Dean nods and offers his arm, doing his best to remain calm when the runner latches on to him.  Together, they walk over to the bench, Dean walking slowly while the man hobbles next to him. He gingerly helps him lower himself down and he sits next to him, observing the way he grimaces in pain. “You sure you’re okay?” Dean asks.

The man takes a deep breath and leans back.  “Do you ever run, officer?” he asks in his strange, gravelly voice.

Dean snorts.  He goes to the gym a couple times a week and jogs on the treadmill but that’s about it. He spends the rest of his time lifting weights, only so he can swallow down an extra slice of pie on the weekends.  “I jog. At the gym.”

“I run almost every day,” the man says.

“I know, I see you,” Dean blurts out.  His entire face turns red when he realizes what he has done.

“So you’ve been watching me, officer?” the man asks with a little smile. He winces as he attempts to stretch his leg. 

“You want me to give you a ride somewhere?” Dean asks.

The man laughs softly.  “Maybe not the kind you have in mind.”

Dean swallows thickly.  Was the man flirting with him? He rubbed a hand behind his neck.   He always gets like this around attractive men – he turns into a bumbling, blushing idiot.  It’s embarrassing.

“Actually, I don’t live very far from here, I should be alright soon. Shouldn’t you be protecting the innocent and patrolling the streets?”

Dean laughs.  “I guess so. I’m just waiting for my partner to get back with our breakfast.”

The man hums.  “You mean those donuts you scarf down every morning?”   

This almost makes Dean stop breathing.  Had the man been watching him too?  “I do _not_ scarf,” he huffs.

“You do, though.  Maybe you can’t tell,” the man says with an amused grin.  “You’re not going to give me a ticket, are you?”

Feeling bold, Dean shrugs.  “Maybe I will.”

“For what? Disturbing the peace?”

“For flirting with an officer while he’s on duty,” Dean shoots back.

“Ouch.” The man pauses.  He splays a hand out on his thigh and looks over at Dean.  “So should I flirt with you while you’re _off_ duty?”

“That would be more prudent, yes,” Dean says.  In his chest, his heart thumps painfully.  His palms are sweaty. 

“You should run with me sometime, officer.”

Dean smiles.  “What’s your name, citizen?”

The man trains his blue eyes on him and it sends a shiver down his spine. “Castiel.”

Dean extends his hand.  “Nice to meet you, Castiel.  I’m Dean.”

* * *

“You got his number?”

“Shut up, Vic.”

Victor laughs. “You _did_ get his number.”

“I said shut up!” Dean says.  He reaches out and punches Victor’s shoulder lightly.

“Dean Winchester you just can’t help yourself, can you.  You see one pretty thing run past you every day for three months and you just _had_ to get his number.”

“Ha, ha, ha.  Why are you even a cop? You should be doing stand up.”

“Fuck you,” Victor says with a laugh before turning the ignition in the car.

Dean opens the brown paper bag containing his donut. 

For once, he doesn’t scarf it down.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write more but I got lazy.


End file.
